


Wishing For a Black Hole

by wordsarelifealways



Series: Isak with Asperger's [2]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Isak with Asperger's, M/M, Stimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 14:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11337567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsarelifealways/pseuds/wordsarelifealways
Summary: Isak's been very stressed and his stimming has left his leg sore and bruised. Even looks after his boy.





	Wishing For a Black Hole

**Author's Note:**

> anon prompt: "could you maybe write about even finding out about isak's aspergers because he finds isak's thighs red and bruised and asks isak about it and is super worried so finally isak tells him that he was stressed so he was stimming a lot and explains it all?"
> 
> This is set sort of late February 2017, so Isak is still living in the kollektiv and the boys are still learning about each other's conditions! This is a follow up to a short fic I was prompted to write on tumblr, the link is just in the first line of this fic if you want to read that first (it's not vital to the story if you don't though)

The thing is: they’d had [the talk](http://isaksredscarf.tumblr.com/post/162055214498/also-for-your-autism-au-could-you-write-an-hc-or-a).

Isak had tripped over the words and stuttered and did a little bit of uncomfortable squirming in his seat in response to being so blunt about his condition, but the talk had been _done_.  He had ticked it off of his mental to-do list and moved forwards.

Honestly, he had been hoping that could have been it.  One talk and that’s it; wham bam thank you ma’am.  But from the concerned look on Even’s face Isak knows he’s going to have to do some explaining.

He had been treating Isak like a fragile little thing all day.  He kept offering to carry Isak’s bag or his books, he made sure Isak ate something substantial for lunch, and he’d generally been a protective boyfriend cage hovering around Isak every moment they were together like he was trying to shield Isak from the entire world.

Isak hadn’t really thought much about it, figuring Even was just having one of his _I love you so much and I’m going to show it as much as physically possible_ days, but now the puzzle pieces were starting to come together.

“Isak, please say something.” Even pleads, his hold on Isak’s hands tightening.  Isak stares at him blankly from where’s he’s sat on the edge of his bed, trying to process what Even had said.  All Isak can think it that usually the sight of Even on his knees in front of him is the highlight of the day, but not this time.

All Isak can do is repeat Even’s initial question.

“Did someone hurt me?” Isak’s eyebrows pull together as he says it, unable to even _imagine_ where Even had plucked such an idea from.

“You can tell me, baby.” Even’s thumbs are stroking Isak’s hands, but Isak is pretty sure Even is the one who needs the comforting in this scenario seeing as he looks about ready to cry.

“No?” Isak shakes his head, still impossibly confused.  He glances around his room, wondering if maybe something in here had worried Even. Sure, his room isn’t the _tidiest_ in the kollektiv, but he’s pretty sure it doesn’t look so bad that Even might assume someone had come in and assaulted him??

“I saw your leg, Isak.” Even sighs, running a worried hand through his hair; it’s long fallen out of its usually well styled look, now curling all over the place and sticking up randomly where Even rubs at it worriedly.

“My leg.” Isak repeats blankly.

And then he realises.

He wishes there was a monster under his bed that could suddenly grab him by the ankle and yank him into another dimension rather than explain why his thigh is mottled with bruises.

“You know what I’m talking about; I can see it on your face.” Even says, still knelt in front of Isak. Suddenly Isak can’t stand that sight for a second longer.

“Get up here, idiot.” Isak’s voice shakes as he hauls Even up onto his feet and then pulls him down to sit next to him on the bed.

“I’m just worried about you, Isak!” Even protests at being called an idiot, but he lets Isak manhandle him onto the bed anyway.

“I know.” Isak rubs his face tiredly, his words floating out on an exhausted sigh.

He figures this is the sort of thing to do like a plaster: just get it over with quickly.  He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, deciding it’s easier to make this confession to the darkness of this inside of his eyelids rather than Even’s beautiful face marred with worry.

“No one hurt me, Ev.  I did it to myself.” Isak presses his lips together as soon as the words are out, wishing there was some way he could vanish into thin air.

“Isak,” Even sounds so serious; Isak’s heart rate picks up almost painfully.  “Self harm isn’t the-”

“No!” Isak yelps, his eyes snapping open.  He can’t even wait until Even finishes that sentence because it’s so far from what happened.  “It _isn’t_ self harm, Even, jeez.” Isak shakes his head, finally braving a look over at Even.

The tension seems to melt right out of Even as Isak tells him it isn’t self harm.

“It’s not?” Even almost chokes on his relief.

“No, no, nothing like that.” Isak promises.  He reaches over and squeezes Even’s hand comfortingly, but soon it turns to Isak nervously playing with Even’s long fingers.

“So what happened, baby?” Even leans closer to him, brushing his hair away from his forehead and pressing a kiss against his temple.

“Remember…a few months back when I told you I had autism?” Isak wishes so desperately that a black hole will suddenly manifest in his room and suck him into the vacuum of space and out of this conversation.

“Of course.” Even nods. He’s looking at Isak with so much _concern_ that Isak can barely stand it.

“And I told you about stimming? And how I stim when I get stressed?” Isak prompts, looking anywhere but Even.  He never struggles more with eye contact than he does when he’s talking about his autism.

“You bruised your leg up like that…from _stimming_?” Even asks.  His voice is practically dripping with shock and it makes Isak fidget on the spot.  This is why he hates talking about it; how do you explain that an aching leg is easier to deal with than a brain full of stinging nettles?

“Yep.” Isak pops the P, not sure what else there is to say.

“Baby…” Even sounds like his heart is breaking, but before Isak can do anything about it Even is pulling him into the tightest hug he thinks he’s ever had.  He let’s Even haul him onto his lap and, for a few seconds, he’s perfectly still within Even’s tight embrace.  It takes a few seconds for the tension to leave him, but as soon as it does Isak is wrapping his arms tightly around Even’s neck and pressing himself impossibly closer.

He hates that they have to have these talks.

They stay like that for a few minutes: sat on the edge of Isak’s bed clinging onto each other like they’ll float off into space if they aren’t anchored down by the other.

Isak has no idea what to say. He has no idea what Even thinks about the truth behind his bruises, and he’s afraid to ask.  He’s afraid that, if he asks, he’ll find out that Even thinks he’s weird for doing something to relieve stress that causes him physical injury. He’s just been… _so_ stressed the last couple of weeks.

Nothing major has happened, but somehow school and his parents and Even and his life in the kollektiv have felt like so much pressure lately.  It’s like Isak is being pulled into a dozen different directions all at once and he’s all turned around and disorientated.  His hand has been constantly tapping against his leg to try to channel some of the anxiety scalding his insides, but the more stressed he got the harder he tapped his hand and the harder he tapped his hand the worse his leg felt (and _looked_ ).

But it helped clear his mind. As stupid and unhealthy as it sounded, it helped him.  And it wasn’t like Isak had a _choice_ in it; stimming was as natural to him as breathing.

“I’m gonna lay you down, Is, okay?” Even’s soft voice brings Isak out of his anxiety spiral.  He’s so tired.  Isak knows that it’s like getting blood out of a stone trying to get him to talk about how he feels.  It always leaves him bone tired and emotionally drained, regardless of how much he had to say.

All Isak can do is nod.

Even lays him down tenderly, and for a wild second Isak’s brain flashes through all the times Even has lain him down in this bed and proceeded to play his body like a god damn fiddle. Isak is helpless to do anything but stare at Even with wide eyes, and Even seems to understand that he’s exhausted.

“I’m gonna take your sweats off, okay?” Even asks, waiting for Isak’s nod before shimmying the material off Isak’s legs carefully.  “I’ll be right back.” He says as he tosses Isak’s sweats onto the floor.  Isak’s eyes close tiredly as he hears Even’s footsteps pad out of his room.  Part of him is convinced Even is never going to come back, but before that part can win the majority vote in Isak’s mind he hears Even pad back in.

“I got the arnica out of the first aid box; it should stop the bruises aching so much.” Even’s voice gets louder as he gets closer, before Isak feels the bed dip when Even sits next to him.  Isak’s too tired to open his eyes, but he nods and rolls onto his right side so his bruised thigh is exposed to Even.

He hears the long deep inhale Even takes and he wishes more than ever that he could make his brain work like a normal human being.  He knows for a fact that if he ever voiced that thought to Even he’d get asked _what is a normal brain huh_? and the thought makes him smile a little.

“This is probably going to be cold.” Even warns him apologetically and Isak opens his eyes, cracking a weak smile.

“Not the first time you’ve said that to me in bed.” He jokes, and Even laughs.

“I suppose not.” He rolls his eyes fondly, a move usually reserved for Isak.  Isak lets his eyes drift closed again; he feels so safe with Even. For the most part he feels so secure in their relationship; they’re solid.  They’ll always be there to look after each other.

It’s only been a few months – two and a half, to be specific – but Isak can’t imagine his life without Even.

The first touch of the arnica cream is – as Even suspected – cold against his skin and a tiny shiver runs through him.  The cold is soon replaced by comforting warmth as Even gently rubs the cream into Isak’s poor bruised thigh.

They stay like that: Isak laying half asleep on his side and Even sat on his knees next to him.  They don’t say anything.  Isak isn’t sure they need to.

The upper outside half of his thigh is covered in bruises, ranging from faded yellow and greens to dark blues and purples that are still new enough to be raised lumps.  Even doesn’t miss a single one.

It only takes a few minutes before Even is screwing the lid back on and tossing the pot onto Isak’s bedside table.  Isak’s leg is tingling, a nice change to the dull throbbing ache it had had before, and he’s expecting Even to lie down and spoon him now that the first aid is all out of the way.

Instead, he feels Even’s plush lips a breath away from his tender skin.

“Ev?” His breath hitches as he opens his eyes and finds Even lying on his stomach alongside Isak’s leg.

“I’m gonna look after you.” Even whispers, his words sending goosebumps along Isak’s thigh.

“Okay.” Isak whispers back. He watches with wide eyes as Even props himself on his elbow and proceeds to press the softest of soft kisses to each and every bruise on Isak’s leg.  He noses at the red patches from today, the welts that Isak is pretty sure you can actually _see_ the handprint in, before brushing a soft kiss over it.

“Be gentle with yourself, baby.” Even’s voice is almost as soft as his kisses, but the pleading note to it cuts right through Isak like a knife through butter.  “I’m here to help with whatever’s stressing you.” Even promises, pressing one last kiss to Isak’s thigh before moving himself up the bed and curling up around Isak protectively.

“Thank you.” Isak struggles to get the words out around the lump in his throat, but Even hears him.

“I’m here for you, Isak. Whatever you need.” Even wraps an arm around Isak’s stomach and threads their fingers together.  His are a little bit slippery with residual cream, but Isak doesn’t mind.

“That means a lot.” Isak has to swallow around the golf ball sized lump of emotion in his throat a few times before he can actually get the words out.  “Thanks for not just telling me to stop stimming.” His voice comes out so small and he hates it.

“I hate seeing you so bruised, but if this is the only way you can get through it then I’ll be here every night to cover you in cream and kiss them better.” Even’s voice is so deep when he’s lying down, and his lips are so close to Isak’s ears that it makes him shiver.

“You know, kissing the bruises doesn’t actually stop them hurting…” Isak trails off, smiling at the affronted look he can see on Even’s face from the corner of his eye.

“My kisses have healing powers, I’ll have you know.” Even says indignantly into his ear and Isak can’t help but laugh.

“Oh yeah?  Did you get bitten by a radioactive teddy bear?” He teases, startling when Even claps a hand over his mouth.

“How did you know?!” He gasps, and Isak can’t help but grin at his theatrics.  How did he get so lucky to be in a steady relationship with this boy?

They start to settle down then, ready to sleep despite the early hour of the evening, and Isak is already dozing when Even pipes up.

“Does this mean you want me to stop kissing your bruises better?” He whispers, wanting to be sure he wasn’t _actually_ crossing some line and making Isak uncomfortable.

A sleepy smile spreads across Isak’s face.

“Don’t even think about it.”


End file.
